


Is this what they call a second chance?

by sniperct



Category: DC Animated Universe, DC Extended Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 09:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15312051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniperct/pseuds/sniperct
Summary: So I was at the end of my rope, and then I met a girl who needed help. And I guess she kinda helped me when I wasn't looking.(In which Harley becomes a surrogate sistermom as told by Harley to you, dear reader)





	Is this what they call a second chance?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smokeycut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeycut/gifts).



> The first paragraph popped into my head almost entirely as written after [this](https://trans-cir-el.tumblr.com/post/175939319879/if-the-rumors-about-bop-replacing-babs-with-harley). So this is all your fault, Fetch!

The first time I met the kid I was in a real bad way. Mistah J had left me for dead, again. And by left for dead I mean he was the reason I’d almost died. So I was reassessing the whole nature of our relationship.

This was before Red, so I didn’t really have nobody. It was just me, without a reason to live.

So I was contemplating a short walk off of a tall building when I see this Chinese girl. She’s somewhere between fifteen and twenty. It’s hard to tell since she was so thin and malnourished. She was just this girl, alone at two in the morning in a really bad part of Gotham.

And she was being followed. There were six of ‘em, members of a gang known for picking teens off the street and shipping them elsewhere.

I guess some part of me still had a conscience, because what do you do when you see that situation? You gotta step in, right? I ain’t a stranger to a fight and I figured worse case scenario they’d beat me to death and all my problems would be solved!

But I take like, five steps and the girl just goes berserk on them. I never seen nothing like it before, except I kinda had. She reminded me of the _Bat_.

She moved so gracefully, like a cute, tiny shadow of the Bat, and had the whole damn gang laid out on the ground in six hits. I froze when she spotted me, but she relaxed. Like she realized I wasn’t a threat. But when I started to move towards her, she bolted.

I smashed one of the gang’s balls with my heel and that made me feel a little better, yanno? Sometimes you just gotta kick a guy in his cajones to make your day better.

But now I had this _mystery_. Who was that girl? How the fuck did she kick the asses of six people three times her size?

I started coming back to that place, hoping to see her again. It took a week, but I found her again, luring her out with some snacks. I discovered rice crispy treats were her favorite. It became a thing, night after night. I started bringing her meals. We both shared a love of curly fries and chicken curry. 

We’d sit on the dock, feet dangling over the water, and she’d eat what I brought her, and we’d talk. Well, I’d talk, since the girl was nonverbal.

Thing is, back in the day before the whole clown car fiasco, that used to be my _thing_. Helping people. Talking to them. Listening to their problems and helping them work through them. I didn’t know why she was nonverbal, but it didn’t really matter, not right then.

This girl wasn’t just a puzzle to unlock, or someone in need of help; she was someone who could help _me_. I just didn’t figure out that’s what was happening at first. See, we were both survivors, and survivors often find each other, especially once they’re willing to admit that’s what they were.

And she helped me admit that’s what I was.

She disappeared once, for a few days, until she showed up where I was squatting. She’d found something. Remember that gang? She’d found one of their warehouses, and wanted help. I’m not gonna say no to her, especially not when it comes to dealing with shitheads like that. I didn’t really have a costume anymore, but a pair of red leather pants and matching t-shirt worked well enough.

Only by the time we got there, the Bat had showed his cute little behind and taken care of the place. Problem was, we both knew that there was more to it. That this wasn’t the end of it. I didn’t let her go in, not with the Bat wrecking the place, but I saw the way she watched him, studied him. And it gave me an idea.

See, the Bat has been around since I was like eight. A fixture in Gotham for most of my childhood and my entire adulthood. And thing is, he didn’t always work alone. He had Robins. And for awhile, there was a redheaded girl.

We never saw much of her, she was pretty good at staying away from cameras, but I saw her once when I was fifteen, swinging over head in this form hugging outfit, hair streaming behind her. Kinda had a thing for redheads ever since. And butts.

Back to that idea.

I made the kid a costume. She don’t talk so it didn’t need a mouth, and with the right kind of fabric it could hide her whole face and she could still see. The combination of her ballerina body and a creepy costume was enough to make anyone piss their pants and I was pretty proud of my new Batgirl. I even put in an earpiece so she could get orders.

Cuz here’s the thing. I’m a good fighter. Crack shot, swing a hammer like a pro, brutal kinda stuff. But Batgirl, she was finesse. Precise, beautiful finesse. I didn’t wanna get in the way. But I could be the gal in the chair, the eyes in the sky.

Now, I ain’t a computer expert. I’m pretty good at googling, but that’s not the same thing. What I _am_ good at is profiling. I went all Criminal Minds on those bastards while teaching her how to read and write. Somewhere along the way, as I helped this girl, she helped me find reasons to live.

One by one, warehouse by warehouse, we purged that gang from Gotham, working our way up the food chain until we had the gang leaders tied up in a nice pretty bow for the Bat, and a list of names of people overseas for him to track down and beat the shit out of for us. We didn’t even kill too many of ‘em!

“Babe, who are you talking to?”

“Not now, Red!”

Where was I? Oh yeah! I figured there was only so much I could do for you, and I ain’t exactly one of the good guys. So I says to her, I says, “I know someone who needs your help, just like you helped me.”

And we went up to a roof top, and we put together a searchlight, and made our own batsignal. Sure enough, he came. He stared at me with those sexy, sexy eyes, and I explained myself.

I explained the girl, and the gang, and how she don’t belong with me, that she belongs with someone better than I ever could be and honestly Bats you need help.

And through it all, he listened. Finally, he approached her, and knelt down at her level. “What’s your name?” He asked.

I was about to tell him she don’t talk when she answered, “Cassandra.”

Damn, how about that? She looked at me, pulling her mask off and giving me the biggest smile I’d ever see her make before hugging me.

Thing about my girl, is she don’t like hugging. I figured that out early on. Cass don’t like touching unless she knows you, and even that is pretty rare and selective. But there she was, hugging me, and there I was, bawling like a baby.

And then do you know what he says?

“Harley. I could use your help too. Just no more killing, from either of you. Deal?”

And I look at him, and I think he’s smiling but if the Bat is smiling something in the world is broken because he’s _the Bat_. And I know what he’s doing and he knows I know what he’s doing. But…

“Deal!”

Look kiddos, we don’t get second chances that often, let along third and fourth ones. Somehow, Cass managed to turn me into a hero while I ended up some kinda surrogate sistermom. And you know what? It feels really good. And if Cass hadn’t saved my life, I wouldn’t be working with Bruce, and I wouldn’t have met my beautiful Red.

I gotta get going folks. Red is wondering who I’m talking to and I don’t think she’s gonna believe it if I told her it was you guys. Besides, we gotta get to places. Thing about being a good guy is you gotta work at it. It’s exhausting.

But I _guess_ it’s worth it, especially when you gots some good reasons.

Toodles!


End file.
